Dogmatic Pigs
by A-Writer-Bro
Summary: A confused, aimless Harry Potter is taken for an adventure to fulfill a void that came with the defeat Voldemort. Traveling dimensions beyond his belief, Harry finds a new mentor and meets old friends. Rated M for violence, language, and great jokes.
1. Tunnel

a_writer_bro

I own nothing.

Author note-

I've been toying with this new idea for HP fanfiction for a while but it has so many problems that the first chapter I posted was so messed up that before I could post the second I had to go back and delete the first because it had so many inconsistencies with the second chapters. Sigh. Hope you like it.

Dogmatic Pigs

Chapter 1: Tunnel

Present

"Look at the arse on that one," rumbled a grizzled old man as a young waitress walked

away. His grandson nodded in affirmation, "She's fit alright."

The two relatives sat in uncomfortable silence, the grandfather absently playing with the tassels of his old fashioned waist coat while nursing his Firewhiskey. His grandson sat impatiently across the table with his hands twisting relentlessly in his lap.

"Can I go yet?" asked the Grandson rudely. The old man looked up from the depths of his drink and fixed his grandson with sad expression. The young man immediately regretted his choice of words, remembering that as boring as his grandfather was, he was family. His father had told him as much. As much as he wanted to leave the musty old pub-The Hog's Head- that Grampa seemed to love, he didn't want to upset his grandfather.

"Sorry Grampa-it's just that- uh…" the young lad trailed off after seeing the blazing look he was getting. His grandfather's face look carved from stone. His face wrinkled and defeated, his mouth shrouded in an unkempt mess of a beard, but his eyes held an intense glow.

"Let me tell you a story, Norman," started the old man. Norman grimaced openly at his name and the mention of one of his grandfather's long, droning stories.

"For the thousandth time Grampa, it's Norm," said the Norm in his best exasperated voice. Grampa nodded absently and continued on with his mission. "Anyway, the story is about," he paused for dramatic emphasis, "Harry Potter." The grandfather waited for a reaction from his grandson but Norm didn't seem to be sparing any excitement, so he tried again. "Harry Potter!" he shouted again, waiving his fingers in an enthusiastic manner.

The young lad did not look impressed, "Who's that?"

The Grandfather opened and closed his mouth several times unable to form a proper response to convey just how shocked he was. He paused and gathered up his wits by taking a long draught of his firewhiskey, finishing it. He took a deep breath and pulled off his worn bowler hat. "Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived; everyone knows him!" blurted the old man. Norm shook his head, "Never heard of the bloke." His grandfather scoffed and shook his head, "Unbelievable," he mumbled under his breath.

"What do they teach you at the bloody school of yours," demanded Gramps while clutching the empty mug tightly. Norm looked affronted at the unexpected jab at Hogwarts.

"They teach us a lot!" Norm shot back testily, "Well just yesterday we learned all about Kingsley Shacklebolt, the greatest Minister of Magic we've ever had, and his triumph over Lord Voldemort." After finishing his tirade Norm looked uncertainly at his grandfather whose eyes were dangerously close to popping out if his head.

Silence descend over the table with the exception of Grampa's occasional muttering of, "Nutters, the whole lot of em," and "bleeding Kingsley Shacklebolt." Finally the old man looked up from his mug and stared his grandson in the eyes; he nodded to himself and seemed to decide something. "What year are you in lad?" asked the grandfather.

"O.W.L. year," responded Norm with a dismal expression, his grandfather nodded and let out a positive grunt.

"Abby!" Grampa shouted gruffly in the direction of the bar. The old man got a disgruntled look on his face as he watched someone move in his direction, "Not you Aberforth, you ancient goat!" An extremely wrinkled old man hunched over a cane glared at Grampa before retreating back into the storage room. A significantly more attractive bartender emerged from the shadows of the musty Hogs Head with a reproachful look on her face.

"Ya should lay off on ol' Aberforth," she chided while shaking her pretty blonde curls, "now 'ow can I please ya?" She took out an ugly yellow notepad and turned towards Norm, "What ya need sweetie, can I get ya a cuppa?" Norm was about to respond but his grandfather interrupted, "Two firewhiskeys," said Grampa in a no-nonsense tone of voice. Abby raised her eyebrows in surprise but didn't say anything before turning and leaving to get the drinks. Nothing was said during the retrieving of the firewhiskey as Norm was trying to look as nonchalant as possible. Internally, he was dying to get back and brag to his friends about drinking the firewhiskey he hadn't even had yet. When the drinks arrived Norm eagerly grabbed his mug and took a hearty gulp. He let out a strangled cough at the heat and bitterness overwhelming his senses causing a predictable chuckle from the patrons that were watching the novice drinker.

"You have to let it cool off a bit laddy, it ain't a butterbeer," chuckled Grampa with a humorous glint in his eye. Norm scowled at him, his face flushed red with adolescent shame. "Just tell your bleeding story Grampa," snapped Norm, tired of his grandfather's antics. Grampa didn't look put out in any sense.

"Okay, I'll start, but before I start you need to know that what I'm about to tell you goes against most of what you've learned but it's 100 percent true," said the old man firmly. Norman looked curious despite himself.

Grampa drained the remainder of his firewhiskey and took off his hat placing it in front of him, "Well this story starts on Halloween, in a muggle bar not unlike the one we're in right now."

October 31st, 1999

Ben O'Connell had been bartending at the same pub in central London for 31 years, and liked to think he'd seen it all: gay German tumblers asking his advice on sex change doctors, autistic giraffe trainers, midget sailors, but he'd never run into an alcoholic-self proclaimed- wizard; at least not until last week. Last Saturday night a fairly handsome man of about 20 years old with a gruesome scar on his head, and going by the name of Harry, had come in and drank an astounding amount of whiskey. He spun an incredible tale of magic and good versus evil; so sure of his words, Ben found it hard to remind himself that the young man was obviously a raving loony. Regardless, Ben found himself eagerly awaiting the next installment in this man's story.

And so Ben O'Connell found himself with three shots of Locke's Single Malt Irish Whiskey lined up and waiting for Harry. At promptly 11:30 pm the young 'wizard' in question strolled in casually and seated himself on the dusty stool in front of Ben. "'Lo Ben," he greeted before easily tossing back the three shots without so much as a grimace. Harry sat for a full 10 minutes without saying a word. Ben, obviously impatient with the silence, spoke up, "So last time you had just broke the last Horcrux thingy and were about to get in a ruck with that bloke- what's his name- Voldy something or other."

Harry looked up from his empty shot glass with surprise written on his face. He had known that Ben had been listening but he hadn't known just how intently, perhaps he should obliviate the bartender. "Been listening to my barmy tale of dragons and magic, eh Ben?" said Harry cynically. Ben reddened at the truth in accusation, "Ya, what of it?" he challenged. Harry shrugged in return, "It's just refreshing, it's been a while since anyone has listened to me."

Ben was unsure of what to make of this cryptic answer but thankfully he was spared a response because Harry started where he left off with his story. "Alright so last time I was here I was talking about the Battle of Hogwarts and how I had just broken the Diadem, come back from the dead, and was in the Great Hall verbally going tit-for-tat with Voldemort," Ben nodded in affirmation so Harry continued, "okay so let's see.."

_"Don't you see Tom, I'm the true master of the Elder Wand," I stated calmly. Voldemort looked stricken, but did not stop his stride as we circled each other. Suspense flooded the room as silence descended. "Enough!" Voldemort spat, his face disfigured with a sort of vile hatred, "it ends now!" As we raised are wands to fight, before I fired a scream was heard followed by a flash of green light that struck the unsuspecting and now horcruxless Tom Riddle in the side. His eyes rolled upwards as he crumpled choppily to the ground. Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt had just saved my life by killing Voldemort while he wasn't looking. A profound sense of emptiness washed over me inexplicably mingled with a small dab of relief. Then the cheers started, followed shortly by tears at our losses. _

"And that's how Kingsley Shacklebolt became the most popular Minister of Magic ever and 'The Vanquisher'," said Harry darkly; using Minister Shacklebolt's given name by the Daily Prophet. Ben looked completely aghast, "After all that and you didn't even get to off that Voldy fellow, what a right disappointment that was," said Ben sourly, obviously feeling cheated somehow. Harry laughed, morbidly amused by Ben's behavior. "Well at least I didn't have to deal with all that publicity and what not," said Harry sincerely, waiving away the issue with his hand. Ben looked surprised by the lack of bitterness in his voice, since most people would appreciate the fame.

They spent a good 20 minutes following discussing finer parts of the story that Harry embellished slightly because he hadn't told them in ages. No one believed that 'Horcrux bull' as reporters had called it, believing instead that The-Boy-Who-Lived was looking for more credit than he deserved. Ben however believed him, because… well a week ago he didn't think magic existed so he took everything Harry said at face value. Finally after a silence Ben spoke up with a strange concern in his voice, "What I don't get 'bout you mate is you come in here at lock-in, get arse-over-tits and spill your guts to me. But it seems to me that you should be happy, you got everything you wanted, and didn't even have to get your hands dirty." Harry let out a long, drawn out sigh at the hidden question. Indeed he had been asked this many times before, why wasn't he happy? After the war ended instead of going back to Hogwarts Harry had taken Kingley's offer to join the Auror Academy with minimal training and a fantastic starting salary. He had taken it, claiming to his friends that he felt an obligation to all that died to help out, but that was lie. Sure he felt that, but it was the emptiness after Tom Riddle had died that drove him to kill 23 remaining death eaters before he noticed that killing couldn't fill that void.

This caused his friends to regard him warily, his ejection from the Auror force, and, naturally, more slanderous articles from the Daily Prophet. Harry remained at an impasse. Why was he sad? Was his void spawned from not killing Voldemort? These are the questions that kept Harry up at night; that sent him to this tiny pub in London to piss away his meager earning. All the galleons that Harry frivolously spent on whiskey were earned working for Colin Creevey, developing his wizarding photos. Harry let out a dry chuckle at the irony of his situation.

"Well mate, I hope things work out for the best," remarked Ben, being unsure of how to comfort such an obviously broken man. Harry opened his mouth to give a predictably cynical retort when a blazing violet tunnel burst open directly behind him. The neon purple flames ripped desperately through the air, marring the floor and the counter that shielded Ben from the inexplicable vortex. Harry felt what could only be described as a delicate yet invasive anal probe as he felt himself being lightly pulled backwards with his bum leading the way into the tunnel. While screaming desperately for help the only thing Harry could think of was how this was hands down the most violating form of wizarding travel to date.

A short silence followed the sudden snapping shut of the tunnel. After a short pause Ben raised his head from beneath the counter, "What in the bloody hell was that!" cried Ben as his head pivoted right and left taking in the full destruction of his pub. While taking notice of the irreparable damage Ben noticed that his favorite wizard was missing. Mixed feeling followed the revelation.

"Good riddance! Hmph, comes in here with his dodgy wizard stories, dragging tunnels along with him!" muttered the bartender under his breath as he cleaned up a broken glass.

? ?

"Wake up mate," demanded a foreign, yet friendly voice.

Encouraged by the stranger's pleas Harry opened his eyes and tried to remember what happened. He seemed to be in some sort of waiting room: two ferns, cheap wallpaper, an uncomfortable straight-backed chair, and a plain brown desk. Behind said desk was a stout blonde boy with backwards baseball cap that Harry had seen some Americans wearing on the telly. Suddenly remembering that he wasn't supposed to be there, Harry unknowingly asked a very popular question for the realm he was in, "Where am I?"

The small boy behind the plain desk gave Harry the broadest of smiles, "This my friend, is The Lobby."

Harry dropped his head in defeat, "Why can't I have a normal Halloween for once in my bloody short life."

**Authors note**

If anyone read the story the first time, I had to tweak it a little because I had to change some details around. Inconsistencies kill me. Hope you like the story.

A_writer_bro


	2. The Fates

A_writer_bro

I own nothing

DOGMATIC PIGS:

Chapter 2

_The Fates… Really?_

"You must be Harry Potter."

Harry stood up and immediately felt an onslaught of dizziness that was the product of the mysterious tunnel journey he just took and the three shots of whiskey prior.

"Who are you?" asked Harry, directing his question to the excitable young man behind the desk.

"Well I'm Tyler, the secretary for today," explained the boy as he anxiously clutched and twisted the orange hat on his head. It looked remarkably, as if he was trying to squeeze an orange on his head.

"I don't suppose you could tell me where I am?" asked Harry in a tight voice.

Tyler nodded his head frantically, but said nothing. Harry waved his hands, encouraging him to continue. "Oh, right!" he shouted. Harry was quickly losing faith in the distractible young man.

"You are Harry Potter, and you have a meeting with The Fates, which you are…" he trailed off and looked at his watch, "twelve minutes late for." Tyler laid back and smiled to himself, clearly pleased with message delivering abilities.

"W-what?" stuttered Harry. He was completely baffled by this strange boy in front of him. All he got out of this is that he was late for some sort of meeting that he was unaware he was suppose to be attending.

Instead of screaming in frustration, Harry unclenched his fists and let out a deep breath, " Could you please explain to me where the hell I am and who I am suppose to be meeting?"

Tyler fell off his chair with a bang, waving his hands frantically. Harry ran across the white washed room to help him up. "Are you okay?" he asked the fallen secretary. Tyler looked at him wide eyed and took Harry's hand to get up. He removed his ball cap and brushed invisible particles of dust off his shoulder. He leveled Harry with a hard stare, "You mean to tell me you have no idea what this place is, or who _The Fates_ are?" he said the last words with the heavy emphasis someone uses when talking about something highly revered.

Harry felt as if he was about to explode, the frustration of dealing with this incredibly dimwitted secretary was taken its toll and on his. "I'm not drunk enough for this," he muttered under his breath. "Look," he started to Tyler, "I just want to know-" before Harry could continue his tirade a tiny speaker box on Tyler's desk announced, "We will now be seeing Mr. Potter."

There was a short silence before Tyler sprinted to Harry and began shoving him toward an extremely small wooden door behind the desk, "No time to explain, sorry Harry, I'll make it up to you!" shouted Tyler in a rushed voice as he pushed an unwilling Chosen One towards the astonishingly small doorway.

Harry was beyond caring about the secretary now; he might finally get an answer if he met with these _Fates _blokes. The only problem in his way was this tiny door. Though Tyler didn't seem to think it was much of an issue as he shoved Harry to the ground and proceed to entice him through the door by kicking him in the behind repeatedly.

"Er-uhm, Tyler I really don't think this will work," came Harry's muffled voice through the other end of the door way. His shoulders were too broad for the width of the door but that did not stop Tyler from prodding his arse with his heel.

"Not a problem, not a problem," repeated Tyler as he delivered on last firm whack to Harry's bum that sent him spiraling through the door; experiencing a strange sensation in his stomach, not unlike the one he had going through the tunnel. Harry moved to place a hand on the ground after being shot through the doorway and instead met no resistance. He was falling. Opening his eyes he noticed that he was falling about two stories, and rather fast.

He let out a shrill scream before landing shoulder first on an enormous recliner, knocking the recliner over in the process. Harry let out a weak groan and pressed his hands to either side of his head, untangling his body he thanked Merlin that none of his bones were broken. He stood up and looked at the tiny door from which he had fallen. The door was about two stories high in the air and the opening, now closed, no bigger than his head. "Huh," thought Harry, "Magic is weird."

"No weirder than that ridiculous scar on your head," spoke a voice behind Harry. Harry had not noticed he had spoken aloud.

Harry spun around on the spot, taken aback by the rude comment. Though he hated his scar, and what it stood for, he was more used to people staring at it than insulting it. "Excuse me-" Harry stopped his sentence short when he realized he was alone in the room. "What the hell is the place," Harry grumbled to himself. Shaking his head he made his way to the much bigger, average size door way at the end of the plain white room.

Harry slowly eased the door open. Revealed to him on the other side was a medium sized London flat. However, the living room looked rather different then an average apartment. Coating the walls were pictures superheroes, ranging from Spiderman, to Superman, Batman, and plenty that Harry, as a wizard, was unfamiliar with entirely.

"It looks like ten year-old's wet dream in here," commented Harry to himself as he scoped the room for signs of The Fates.

"I resent that."

Harry spun around to see a small boy around age nine or ten standing in a doorway. The young boy had fluffy blonde hair and bright blue eyes, and was decked out in a flamboyant pirate costume. Harry eyed the boy warily.

The child sighed. "It _is_ Halloween you know!" he said in an exasperated voice, "Now come back to the lounge, Sissy is waiting."

No longer concerned with how bizarre the situation was getting, for he now believed it to be a dream, Harry followed the miniature pirate through the doorway.

Harry was already a few steps behind the boy when passing the threshold. The hallway looked a remarkable 20 meters long of powder blue wallpaper with smiling dancing clowns celebrating on the wall. Harry could not suppress a shudder.

The child noticed, "Yeah, I know, this is some creepy shit. But Sissy's has a g-spot for clowns, and we are headed to her room."

"Who are you?" Harry blurted out, completely nonplussed by the boy's conversation.

The child in question threw him a strange look, "I'm Doug, one of the Fates you are here to see."

Harry stopped on his tracks. "_You _are a Fate?" Harry asked despite not knowing what a Fate was, "You're like… nine years-old." The boy tensed his shoulder and stopped a few steps in front of Harry. When he turned around his eyes had been replaced tiny balls of fire that seared directly into Harry's soul.

"I. Am. A. Fate. I wield more supreme power in my tiny, prepubescent, un-dropped gonads, than you have in your entire body. I am the reason for your life, your parents' death, and your entire lineage. I am the reason you are even a wizard. Your miserable existence is my will. And you are here because you pissed me off…" the boy, Doug, trailed off his explanation, "Look, I'm a good guy, I don't want to fuck with you. Today is Halloween so I happen to be in a good mood. So don't start with me, or I'll fuck start your head into one these _fucking_ happy dancing clowns faster than you can say Captain-God-Damn-America."

Harry stood speechless as the boy, nay, Fate turned around panting with from the effort and emotion of his vehement rant. Harry was about to ask another question but caught sight of the dancing clowns on the wall who were now sporting a grimace and shaking their heads at Harry, imploring him to keep his mouth shut.

The two continued the walk in silence. As they approached the door Doug gave Harry a warning, "I don't like you Harry, but I will give you this warning; compared to my sister, I'm a fucking ray sunflower sunshine. But today is Halloween, so she might be bearable."

Harry swallowed and noticed his throat was quite dry. Harry gave Doug an affirmative nod and he opened the door signaling for Harry to come in after him. Inside the room was what could only be described as an explosion of pinks and soft whites and a good deal of fur and blood caking every corner of the small room. Almost as if, someone had put explosives inside a Unicorn.

"Sissy, have you been putting muggle explosives inside baby Unicorns again?" Doug lightly chided his sister. The girl in question was a shorter than her brother and seemingly the same age with blonde pigtails and the same innocent blue eyes. She was currently sporting a blush from being caught by her brother and small cape of bloodied unicorn hide with a severed unicorn horn on her head.

"I can see you plan to be a unicorn for Halloween," Doug stated dryly. Sissy nodded vigorously, " Oh yeah, this is going to be the best Halloween yet. What's the deal with the ass basket you brought with you?"

Harry blushed crimson but remained silent. Doug looked appraisingly at Harry for not saying something stupid, he turned to his sister. "This is Harry Potter, we called him here. We have to give him the super secret s assignment. Remember?"

She slowly nodded her head, "Okay, Harry. First order of business put this on, its Halloween for god sakes," she handed him what Harry feared was a costume. "What's this?" Harry's question was answered when opened up the package to find a plain white t-shirt with the word **SPED** in bold letters on the front. "It's all we had left," Sissy explained with a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, encouraged by her brothers giggles.

As Harry put on the shirt Sissy started to explain his predicament, "You probably have a few questions, feel free to ask away while you put the shirt on."

"Okay," said Harry as he tried to fit his head through the extra small neck opening of the shirt, "Where am I? Who are you guys? What are The Fates? What do you want?"

"Oh my, you really no nothing at all, though I suppose that is to be expected from a boy wearing a shirt that says **SPED**," she hummed quietly and creepily as she figured out where to start, "Right, I'm bored. Brother, you explain," And with that she turned and walked off to the other side of the room.

Doug let out a heavy sigh, "She's usually way worse. Okay where to start? You are currently in the multiverse, a sort of checkpoint between multiple dimensions. The waiting room you were in, that is the Abyssal Lounge. Think of where we are now as an extension of the Abyssal Lounge, since all of it is essentially one stretching indefinite plane."

Harry poked his head out of the top of the shirt after much work, "Uhmm, multiple dimensions?" Doug nodded, "Right, think of the alternate dimensions as different tiny sides on an enormous diamond with endless tiny little spectrums. The multiverse would be like the center of that diamond, clearly able to visit each different side of the diamond."

"So these alternate dimensions, are they the same, or what?"

"Well there are really an unknown amount, that is just how vast they are, so you could think of dimension like snowflakes where-"

"No two are identical," finished Harry. He was trying to wrap his mind the concept of so many multiple versions of everyone he knew.

"Are there more than one of me?" asked Harry, unsure if even wanted to know.

Doug grinned widely, "Actually, that is a great question considering why we brought you here. See, as The Fates it is our job to create prophecies, and every thousand years my sister and I responsible for making a shifting prophecy. A big one; an epic shift in the battle of good versus bad. Basically, what I'm trying to say is that we're responsible for the Prophecy that effected you."

Harry poked both his arms through the arm holes and grabbed his wand and leveled it at Doug's face. "Are you saying you've been messing with my life, my friends, my family like we're toys!" Harry was livid, his face was red with effort from holding himself back, it took everything he had not to destroy the small Fate on the spot.

"No,"

The word seem to cut through Harry. The certainty with which he spoke it and the calmness in his eyes caused Harry to put his wand away.

Doug started again, more seriously this time, "What I'm telling you Harry as that we made a prophecy. We did not dictate how it was followed. In some universes, your parents never died but Voldemort died trying to kill you. Happy ending, just like that. In others he went after Neville, and you were never effected. It is up to you and Voldemort how the tables turn."

Doug took a long, deep breath. This conversation seemed to be taking a toll on him, "Now ninety-nine percent of the time good beats out evil, that's how it always has been designed to be. But every once in a while something improbable will happen and good loses. That's not suppose to happen. Now let me let you in on a secret," Doug inched closer and whispered in Harry's ear conspiratorially, "Our dad, God, is visiting at the start on the new millennium on New Years, and if all the Voldies aren't dead by then, he'll be super pissed at us."

Harry's face was completely slack. He wasn't even sure where to start. "Are you saying that you called me here because your 'dad', God, is coming back in two months and all the Voldemorts have to be dead, and you want me to kill them?"

Doug nodded slowly, "That sounds about right."

"Do it yourself!" screamed Harry. His nose was flaring and he looked about ready to break something. He was about to continue but a unicorn horn suddenly obstructed his view. He looked down to see a volatile looking Sissy staring at him.

"Have you read the fucking prophecy, you _sped_?" she whispered in a deadly voice. Harry nodded. "Then you know that a Harry Potter has to be the one to kill him. Or else obviously we would get someone more competent then you to do it." With that she turned away and made for a doll house in the corner of the room.

Harry visibly swallowed and spoke to Doug, "Okay but why not get another Harry to kill the rogue Voldemorts?"

"Because you are the exception to the rule. See with all the other version of you it was live or die, but somehow, in some strange turn of events Voldemort died, but you didn't kill him. So technically your still magically bound to us because you never completed the prophecy. Besides don't you want to kill Voldemort, I bet you wish you had the chance, feel robbed by Kingsley?" he added slyly.

Harry had to admit the chance to have another go at Voldemort sounded more than tempting. But he decided to play some hardball first, "What if I don't want to?"

Doug looked at Harry straight faced, "Then Sissy is going to replace that pretty unicorn horn of hers' with your dick."

Harry gulped again, "Okay, I'm in. Where is the Voldemort I have to kill?"

"Well, there is actually only three left, in three different dimensions. However, you are far too weak to face these Voldemorts."

"What? They can't be harder than the Tom Riddle from my dimension," said Harry in a tone of disbelief.

Sissy spoke up from across the room, "Actually they are stronger, and smarter, and just loads more powerful than your scrawny sickly bitch Voldemort. Dougie made yours, and he sucks at making bad guys."

Doug blushed red, "I do not suck at making bad guys! Next prophecy I'm making a way better bad guy then you!" Sissy scoffed in response.

"Anyway Harry, I'm apprenticing you to a certain wizard who owes me a favor. Time moves exponentially slower in the multiverse then in a regular dimension, so you should have a few months to train before you face your first Voldemort."

Harry's head was spinning with shock and confusion. It was all too much too fast. "What happens if I don't win?"

Doug's young face became grim, "Well my father will probably erase the paradoxical universes, including your own. Which means billions of lives lost. That is, unless you finish before New Years."

Harry nodded slowly, not even listening. The idea of killing Voldemort was consuming him; he had long felt an empty spot inside since being robbed the opportunity. "Alright, I'll do it."

Doug grinned a large Cheshire smile, "Good because you're already late, Felix is expecting you."

Harry was about to ask whom Felix was but the same neon violet tunnel from the muggle bar appeared behind him and pulled him in backwards. Harry instantly decided that if was the common form of travel in the multiverse then he was not going to enjoy these two months at all.

Present

"So Grampa what happens next?" asked Norm, who was completely enthralled with the story.

The old man chuckled gleeful, "Don't cha want to find out now laddy, well lets order a few firewhiskeys first, my throats getting' soar."

**Alright guys, that's the second chapter, let me know any and all suggestions. Please review so I know what im doing right and wrong. **


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